


so shall it be

by kaijuburgers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, No Sex, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijuburgers/pseuds/kaijuburgers
Summary: A few hours after a pair of Ben-Hassrath agents try to kill him on the Skyhold battlements, Bull goes to Adaar.-A fic in which Iron Bull has trouble coming to terms with being Tal-Vashoth, Adaar ties him up, and they talk about it.
Relationships: Male Adaar/Iron Bull
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	so shall it be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).



> This fic was written for [The Black Emporium Exchange 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BlackEmporium2020)

A few hours after a pair of Ben-Hassrath agents try to kill him on the Skyhold battlements, Bull goes to Adaar. It’s dark, and when the door to the Inquisitor Quarters swings open, Bull can see the light of the two moons shine through dark stained glass windows.

“Bull?” Adaar says, lifting a hand to cup Bull’s cheek. Bull feels himself shift and press into Adaar’s touch before he knows he wants to do it. He wants to melt into Adaar’s touch, wants to feel grounded, wants Adaar to take all his doubt away. Instead, he makes the mistake of looking at Adaar’s mouth. Adaar’s lips are plump and slightly parted, and when Bull looks at them all he can think about is the fact there are no scars around them. About how the only reason Adaar’s mouth isn’t sewn shut is his parents had chosen to become Tal-Vashoth. 

_Tal-vashoth_. Like him. Like he is now.

“Bull,” Adaar says again, and it isn’t a question this time. “Bull, come in. Let me help you.”

Adaar’s bed is soft and covered in throw pillows, and Bull sinks down into the mattress as he lies on it. Adaar lies next to him, smelling of the perfumed oils he uses on his horns before he goes to sleep, all musk and sandalwood and cinnamon. Bull wants nothing more than to roll against him, bury his face in Adaar’s chest, and just have Adaar hold him for a while. Somehow, Adaar knows. He must know, because without any more words between them, he wraps an arm around Bull’s shoulders and pulls him close. 

Bull tries not to think about a lot of things, but the more he tries to think about them the less he can help it. He tries not to think about Seheron- about warriors emerging from the fog, about watching schools full of children die, about watching Vasaad’s lifeless body fall to the ground. He tries not to think about the few fragments he can still remember of re-education. He tries not to think about the sound and smell of the Qunari dreadnaught on the Storm Coast, the look on Gatt’s face when Adaar gave the order, about how despite everything he gave and lost for the Qun, it was a relief when Adaar gave it. But he thinks about it all, and he lies in Adaar’s arms as he does. Adaar holds him tigher, kisses the side of his face, and his breath is hot against the skin of Bull’s horns when he speaks. 

“Do you want me to tie you?”

Bull hesitates, then nods.

When it’s Bull tying Adaar, he makes sure to give Adaar what he needs. Adaar needs the weight of the world off his shoulders, needs somebody else to make the decisions for him for a while. And now that it’s Adaar tying Bull, he’s making sure to give Bull what he needs too. Where the rope that Bull uses on Adaar is made of tightly laid fibres that dig into Adaar’s skin where there’s a knot or friction, the rope that Adaar pulls from his desk drawer is soft lustrous cotton. He unfurls it, there’s a soft thud as the rope hits the ground, and then a scuffling as Adaar finds the whipped ends, pulling the rope through his hands to find the bight.

" _Bull,_ ” he says when he returns to Bull’s side, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. “Do you want me to give you this?”

“Please.”

“The watchword?”

“ _Katoh,_ ” Bull’s throat is dry as he answers and the word quieter than he expects. “The watchword is _katoh_.”

Adaar kisses him again, this time on the lips and less chaste than before, open mouthed and rough. Bull kisses back, hot and breathy, rising from the bed slightly before Adaar pushes him back down, tugging at Bull’s bottom lip with teeth when their lips part.

Adaar doesn’t tie Bull the way Bull would tie him. Adaar likes his movement restricted, likes to be pinned down or suspended, likes to feel weightless and powerless. The rope that Adaar wraps around Bull's thigh isn’t strong enough to use for suspension and it doesn’t do anything to restrict his movement, but Bull know it’s not meant to. The thick material of his pants means that he doesn’t feel the rope against his skin, but he can feel the pressure that increases with every friction that Adaar adds. The rope starts with a single column tie at the top of Bull’s thigh, winds around the back of his leg and then tucks it under to make a countertension. It’s a simple way of tying, but Adaar has it perfected, one hand holding a small length working rope taut and tight as he works his way down Bull’s leg.

“You’re a good man,” Adaar says as he reaches to just above Bull’s knee, securing the loose rope end. His hands are quick and skilled and clever, and Bull can’t help but want to become undone under them. “What you said on the battlements? About Tal-Vashoth. It’s _vashe-qalab_ , it’s bullshit. You’re a good man. With or without the Qun, you are a good man.”

Bull doesn’t know that he is.

“Do you want me to get another piece?” Adaar asks, eyeing his ropework with a gaze that is somehow both gentle and intense at the same time, and Bull doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more than he wants the soft, grounding constriction of another piece of rope right now. Adaar is as meticulous with the second piece of rope as he was the first, tying a perfect single column tie around Bull’s ankle, pushing his shin to press it against Bull’s thigh, bending his knee. The working rope is tight and tense when Adaar wraps it around Bull’s leg, the first wrap going from ankle to low on the thigh. The second wrap is just as tight as the first, higher up on Bull’s calf but lower down on his thigh, closer to Bull’s bent knee. Adaar’s hands are calloused from gripping his staff but still nimble enough to make fast work of creating a third wrap, then a fourth. He’s part way through tying a half hitch- pulling the fourth spiral over itself on the inside of Bull’s knee, the working rope going over the top rope and then under the left rope in what seems like one fluid motion- when Bull speaks again.

“When they left the Qun, how did your parents know what to take with them?”

Adaar stops tying, but his grip on the rope holds firm. He raises an eyebrow, looking up away from it to meet Bull’s gaze. “What to take with them?”

“Of who they were before,” Bull doesn’t know why he’s asking the question, let alone what answer he wants Adaar to give. “Of who they were under the Qun. How did they decide what to take with them.”

Adaar pauses, looking back to the rope between his hands like he’s hoping it’ll give him an answer. Neither of them speak for a while, and if it weren’t for the comforting pressure of rope against his legs, Bull feels like the silence in the room would swallow him whole. 

“I don’t know Bull,” Adaar admits, finally. “I don’t know.”

When Adaar continues tying, he repeats the reverse hitch on the other three wraps around Bull’s leg, each friction adding just a little more tension on Bull’s leg, squeezing just a big firmer. Between hitches, he gently strokes Bull’s thigh and Bull isn't sure if the way the Adaar touches him is grounding him or making him want to melt into his hands. The rope goes under Bull’s leg to the outside and Adaar repeats the reverse hitches on each wrap, working his way up instead of down this time. There’s some leftover rope, so he ties it off with a hitch and twists the leftover around the stem, finishing it.

Once the ropework is done, Adaar lies next to Bull again, an arm around Bull’s shoulders, pulling him into Adaar’s chest. He strokes Bull’s horns, traces the scars on his face with his fingertips. They lie together like that for a while, and Bull realises he can’t remember the last time somebody else was the one holding him.

“ _Boss…_ ” Bull trails off. His voice is quiet, and the room seems so much bigger and darker and emptier than it did before. There are many things he wants to say, and he can will exactly none of them to his lips. That he doesn’t know who he is without the Qun, that he wants something that he knows about himself that nobody else can take from him. 

Adaar cups his cheek, gently pulling Bull to face him. His thumb gently strokes the underside of Bull’s lips, and he answers the question Bull cannot bring himself to ask out loud.

“You’re a good man," Adaar says the words again like he's repeating a prayer. "You’re my _kadan.”_

Adaar always says qunlat words with reverence, toying at them with his lips and tongue like they’re treasure turned to language. And he says this one as if it is the most precious combination of sounds in the whole of Thedas.  “You’ll always be my _kadan,_ Bull. Nobody can take that from us. _Meravas_ , so shall it be.”

For the first time in a long time, Bull does not think about Seheron. He doesn’t think about Vasaad or Gatt or the Dreadnaught. He doesn’t think about the Qun or the Chargers or the Inquisition. Bull cannot think of anything except the way that Adaar and the rope that Adaar put on him is holding him. And it scares him. He stiffens and twitches against the rope, tempted for a moment to use his watchword. But when Adaar loosens his embrace and Bull finds everything flooding back, he realises what he needs.

He relaxes again, letting Adaar hold him, and lets himself think of nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Adaar/Bull dynamic, and when I saw Penknife's prompt (especially "kink exploration as a way of dealing with feelings" because HELLO), I knew I wanted to write something for it! Also as a rope nerd, it was really fun to think of how Adaar rope topping Bull and Bull rope topping Adaar would differ, both in terms of dynamic and process. My take was that Adaar would top with softer rope and primarily use rope to create pressure, as what Bull wants in this context is to feel taken care with the rope making him feel held. I figure Bull is more of a jute rope bedroom bondage kind of guy, although I can see him being into suspension as a scene in itself (which I think is implied in Trespasser too??)


End file.
